


I woke up in a car

by torres



Series: Playlists [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Pick a character, pairing or fandom you like.<br/>2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random.<br/>3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the length of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I woke up in a car

**Author's Note:**

> [I Woke Up In A Car by Something Corporate](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh2o28A3RIQ)

_So, here I am.  
Well, I woke up in a car. I traced away the fog so I could see the Mississippi on her knees.  
I’ve never been so lost. I’ve never felt so much at home.  
Please write my folks and throw away my keys._

Today was _the_ day. The First Training Day. In all capital letters, just to underline its importance.

It was like starting in a new school all over again – he was the new kid and it was the first day and everyone would already have friends and tables in the cafeteria, and he would stand in the centre of the room, lost and alone and clutching his packed lunch to his chest for dear life.

Fernando had woken up too early, if he got any sleep at all. Maybe because he was too jetlagged to get a wink, or maybe because he was shitting his pants all night to relax.

So, now, Fernando was sitting in his brand-new, club-provided Mini Cooper, in the middle of the Melwood parking lot, refusing to come out because he arrived at the training ground two hours too early. He doubted the receptionist and the security guards were even in yet.

Sighing anxiously to himself, he reclined his seat and plugged in his iPod. He increased the volume for good measure, to drown out the ominous pounding in the back of his head.

Strangely though, in the midst of the screaming electric guitars and the deep thudding of the bass, Fernando heard a persistent rapping noise in his car. Looking around, he finally let out a surprised “puta!” when he caught the figure standing above him outside.

The boy knocked at his window again. Fernando scrambled up, patting his hair self-consciously as he rolled down the window.

“I – I’m not a homeless person,” Fernando blurted out.

The boy paused, then laughed. “Yeah, you’re just an hour and a half early for training.”

Fernando’s face fell, as he blushed hotly. “I know.”

The stranger shrugged, “That’s okay. I did the same thing on my first day. I couldn’t sleep a wink the night before.”

The Spaniard’s broke into a relieved grin. “Me too.”

“I’m Daniel, Daniel Agger, your teammate,” Dan said, extending his hand. Fernando shook it, ignoring how strange it was to be shaking hands through a car window. “Defender from Denmark.”

“I’m Fernando Torres,” he introduced himself in return. “Stri – ”

“Striker from Spain. I know,” Dan winked.

Fernando blushed again.

“They serve early breakfast in the canteen, if you want,” Dan offered.

“Oh.” Fernando thought for a while. The food would probably be English, i.e. bad, and he’d be too nervous to keep his breakfast down, and did he really want to be stuck in a table with Daniel for more than an hour? What the hell would they talk about?

“No thanks. I’m okay here,” the Spaniard smiled politely.

Dan nodded and left. He was already a couple of paces away, when he turned around and came back.

“Sorry, did you want me to offer to stay here?” He asked unsurely. “Because I’m bad with people like that.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m okay. You don’t have to stay,” Fernando answered hastily, trying to explain. He bit his lip then added, “…But, if you want to, you can stay, though.” He unlocked the doors, admitting, “I’m bad with reading people too.”

Dan laughed again, before popping open the door and sliding into the passenger seat.

“I notice your side mirror already has a huge gash on it,” Dan pointed out.

The striker frowned. “I keep missing the post near my place. I’m not used to driving on the right side of the car.”

“Hey, you listen to The Clash?” Dan demanded, instantly grabbing Fernando’s iPod from the dashboard.

“Yeah, don’t you like them?” Fernando answered defensively.

“Like them? I love them! Oh, I’m going to love having you around. Stevie’s favourite artist is _Phil Collins_.”

Fernando’s face immediately scrunched up in disgust. “I thought people from Liverpool were supposed to have good taste. The Beatles _did_ come from here.”

“I think Stevie and Carra are exceptions.”

“As long as they don’t play it in the locker rooms.”

“Oh, they do. Believe me.”

“Shit.”

“Maybe it’s not too late for you to go back to Madrid.”

“I can’t, I already sold my house.”

Dan laughed and they settled into an easy silence. “You sure you don’t want to grab a bite inside?”

Fernando shook his head. “I don’t like English breakfasts. I don’t drink tea either.”

Dan checked his watch. “It’s still early. Wanna grab a coffee downtown? I know a good coffee shop** we can visit.”

Fernando hesitated, and Dan continued. “It’s not far. My treat.”

Finally, the striker relented. “Okay. As long as I don’t have to pay. I still haven’t figured out the coins here.”

“One more thing, though,” Daniel cut off, placing his hand over Fernando’s on the steering wheel.

Fernando froze for many reasons, but he managed to squeak out, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I drive?” Dan asked, his smirk teasing.

“Don’t you trust me?” Fernando shot back, his eyes twinkling, and the knot in his gut slowly loosening.

“I’m sure you were a great driver back in Spain, Fernando,” Dan said in mock sympathy, “But I really would like it if we got back here unscathed.”

Fernando laughed again, feeling more at ease now. “Fine. Deal.”


End file.
